


The Real Thing

by Melisande



Series: Since Tuesday [1]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-07
Updated: 2010-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-11 13:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melisande/pseuds/Melisande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark's roommate has some surprising insights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Real Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Alisanne, as always, and to VL Red Reign for the title. *hugs* I got the idea for Trent from a discussion at Television Without Pity. Thanks to the TWoP posters for ideas and encouragement and laughs.

"It was for a term paper," Clark explained as he threw his mutant-gerbil guts soaked t-shirt into the wastebasket.

"That's cool," Trent replied. "Pass me that Coke, would you, man?"

Clark had worried so much about having a roommate. He knew he was a terrible liar, and he had envisioned having to lie daily to someone he lived with. For some reason, he'd been picturing that person as Lex. Instead, he got Trent, who was now lying back on his narrow bed, staring intently at his Coke can. Lucky for Clark, Trent never stared intently at him.

Clark collapsed onto his bed. The fight with the gerbils had been a tough one. And it was getting tiring, even for him, to run to the farm every morning before classes. Between chores and mutant stopping and Chem 101, it was all getting to be a bit much. He hoped he'd gotten all of the gerbils. What if some had hidden? He worried about that for a minute, then reached under the bed for his chemistry textbook with a sigh. There was a test on Thursday and he was behind on his reading. Why had he signed up for that stupid class, again?

"Dude," Trent asked, "why do you think they call it Coke Classic? I mean, yeah, it's definitely classic, but why does it say that on the can? Do you think it has something to do with those guys we were talking about in Hum 110, those Greeks? Or Romans, whatever - those guys?"

"It's because there's another Coke. You know, Trent, I have to study now," Clark said, trying to stop this conversation before it started. If encouraged even slightly Trent would talk for hours about Coke, his experiences with Coke, and the cosmic significance of Coke. Clark knew. Just yesterday he'd listened while Trent held forth on cargo pants for over an hour. Clark wasn't sure if it was the pot, or if Trent's mind just worked that way. If you could call it working.

"Dude," Trent said, dribbling pot into his bong with utter precision, "you work too hard. You run every morning, you just got back from working on some term paper, and you're ready to rip into that book. It's not good for you. You need to loosen up, man." He offered the bong.

Clark shook his head, as always. He didn't know what pot did to Kryptonians and he wasn't eager to find out. "I need to keep up. My scholarship depends on it." He thumped his book, not actually opening it.

"You're getting straight As, dude," Trent drawled. "You're fine. There's more to college than classes." He took a deep hit and held it for so long that Clark wondered, not for the first time, if Trent had some small breath-holding mutation. Except he was from Oklahoma and Clark hadn't heard of any meteor showers there. Must just be practice.

"I'm going out for dinner Friday," Clark offered as proof of his looseness. He didn't want to be a total dork. Maybe Trent was right, maybe he did need to relax a little.

"You're not going to the party?" Trent asked. "It's going to be awesome! Keith's girlfriend is bringing some friends." He waggled his eyebrows. "Of course, you're not interested in girls, but there'll be guys there, too."

"I'm interested in girls!" Clark said hotly.

"Dude, it's cool. You don't have to lie to me. I don't care that you're gay." Trent was carefully putting his paraphernalia away.

"I'm gay?" That came out wrong. It was supposed to be "I'm _not_ gay!" Sometimes talking to Trent got confusing.

"Gay as the Bravo channel," Trent confirmed. "I guess you're not out yet? Sorry if I jumped the gun, there, man. I thought everyone knew. I mean, like, you don't try to hide it."

Clark stared at Trent's Grateful Dead poster. Trent was something of a cultural historian in his own way. Clark was struggling with the fact that Trent thought he was gay. Clark himself had had some thoughts on the matter, but he hadn't come anywhere near to making a decision. He'd planned on analyzing his feelings and impulses for a few years, doing some research online, agonizing over telling his parents, and then probably never being able to get a date, anyway. But here was Trent, taking it for granted that he was gay, and, as he kept saying, cool with it. Trent made it sound easy. Go to a party, meet a guy, get laid. It sounded _really_ good.

Clark was gay.

"Yeah, I'm gay," he said, just to try it out.

"Uh huh," Trent agreed. "I'm starving - want anything from the coffee shop?"

"No, thanks. Thanks a lot, Trent." He grinned, barely stopping himself from singing, "I'm gay, I'm gay," like some demented Broadway musical. And why did he just think that? God, he really was gay. He wondered when the clothes sense kicked in.

"See you later, then," Trent said as he left.

 

Clark lay awake for a long time that night, examining his new identity. The problem was, he didn't really know how to be gay. He'd never known a gay person. That he knew of, he corrected himself. Maybe he should join a campus group and study their ways. Now that he was gay, he was determined not to be a gay dork. He wanted to be good at it. He wanted to excel.

So, okay, what does a gay alien do? He has sex with guys, that was probably the main thing. Maybe he could do that now, and get to the decorating later. He hoped disco was optional. But first, sex. He drifted off, thinking about doing - stuff - with faceless men.

"Dude, you were _floating_!" Trent was wide-eyed as he stood over Clark, staring down at him.

"No way," Clark said automatically, trying to get his brain to function. He'd been having the best dream. He and Lex had been at the mansion, playing pool, and when Lex bent over to take a shot Clark had stepped up behind him and…. he sighed, silently cursing Trent. Now he'd never know how it had turned out. Oh, and he'd better say something. "Do you see me floating now?" That would stump Trent. It was easy.

"Uh, no. Must have been, like, a flashback. Sorry," Trent apologized, subsiding into his side of the room and falling asleep instantly.

Clark thought about what might have happened in the dream. In detail.

 

"Looking good, CK!" Trent gave Clark a thumbs up.

"You think?" Clark asked anxiously. He was wearing some black jeans that he'd accidentally washed in hot water last week and a brand new t-shirt from Banana Republic in a smaller size than he usually wore. It was like his clothes were feeling him up. He'd stopped at the Body Shop in the mall, too, to get something for his hair. The guy there had been very helpful, spending over an hour discussing hair products with him and showing him how to use them. He liked the way his hair looked for the first time in his life. All it had taken was a little Green Tea Fixing Gel. He'd drawn the line at cologne, though. He just wasn't ready for that.

"Yeah, you'll have him horizontal before dinner," Trent said, scrabbling through the stacks of books and papers on his desk. Clark was pretty sure there was a desk under there. "Who is this guy, anyway? Anyone I know?"

"He's an old friend from home," Clark answered. "We get together about once a month for dinner."

"That's nice," Trent said absently. He was now on his hands and knees, peering under his bed. "So you're, like, fuck buddies?"

"We - NO!" Clark sputtered, feeling his face heat up. And then other body parts.

"Oh, then tonight's the night?" Trent hummed something about "gonna feel all right," as he crawled under the bed. "Ah ha!" He emerged triumphant from beneath the bed holding a cocktail napkin. "I knew I had it! I'm gonna call this - " he peered at the napkin, "Karen, ask her to the party, and maybe we'll both get lucky tonight!"

"Nah," Clark said, scrunching his hair again. "I don't know if my friend is interested in me that way, or even if he's gay." Ever since Tuesday, when he'd found out he was gay and hot for his best friend, he'd been trying to figure out if his interest was reciprocated, or _could_ be reciprocated if encouraged. The clothes and hair goop were meant as encouragement.

"He's picking you up here?" Trent asked, pulling out the bong. "Is it all right if I - " he gestured.

"Sure," Clark said. He might not know what Lex's sexual proclivities were, but he did know that a pot-smoking roommate wouldn't faze him. He'd never seen anything faze Lex.

"Cool," Trent said, lighting up just as there was a knock on the door.

"Lex!" Clark greeted him. He looked Lex up and down. With his new gayvision he could see things he hadn't before, like the way the silvery gray silk sweater clung to Lex's chest, clearly outlining nicely defined pecs, and the way his hips moved, as if they were oiled, as he walked into the room. Clark took a moment to check out Lex's ass, made a mental note to take more time later because that ass deserved it, then closed the door and made the introductions. "Lex, Trent." They nodded at each other. Trent looked a little bug-eyed, but he often looked like that when he was trying not to exhale. Lex was sort of staring at Clark, his mouth hanging open. It was his first visit to the dorm. He was probably trying to think of something to say.

"Nice place," he said, looking around. "I brought you a dorm-warming gift." He held out the paper bag he was carrying. "Sorry it's late."

"No, it's great," Clark said, pulling bottles and glasses from the bag and setting them on his desk. "Thank you. Would you like a drink?" he grinned. "I can offer you, let's see…." he bent over to peer at the labels, making sure his ass was pointed at Lex.

"Yes," Lex said, sounding somewhat breathless. "The Lagavulin."

"We don't have any ice, sorry," Clark said as he handed Lex his Scotch.

"Don't need it," Lex replied before taking a hearty gulp. "It should be sipped, by the way. Try some."

Clark poured himself a glass, then looked at Trent, who still looked bug-eyed. Surely he'd exhaled by now?

"Dude, you're Lex Luthor!" he breathed, accepting a glass from Clark.

"Yes," Lex replied, tensing slightly.

"People still talk about the stuff you used to make yourself and _give away_. You're, like, a legend. Do you still have a lab?"

"I do, yes," Lex said, relaxing, a slight smile on his face. "But I gave up making drugs, and taking them," he said with a glance at Clark, "a long time ago."

"Bummer," Trent said, dejected. "But, hey, this is tasty stuff!" He brightened up, sipping. "Is it true that you blew up the chemistry building, or is that just part of the Luthor Legend?"

Clark sat back, amused, and listened as Lex told some colorful stories about his brief sojourn at Met U. Lex was really sexy when he was relaxed like this. After a while Lex looked at his watch. "We should be going, Clark," he said, rising. "But first, may I use your bathroom?"

"Down the hall on the right," Clark said. He carefully observed Lex's ass, swaying in his well-fitting black wool trousers, as he left the room. Yes, he'd have to devote more time to that. A lot more.

"Whoa, I can't _believe_ my roommate is Lex Luthor's boyfriend!" Trent shook his blond dreadlocks in amazement. "You are one lucky s.o.b."

"I told you, we're not like that. Yet." If Clark had his way, they would be like that immediately after dinner, which he hoped would be short.

"What are you, crazy?" Trent asked, looking at Clark as if unable to believe how dumb he was. "The guy is nuts about you, and he's, like, the essence of sex. If you don't want him, I might ask him out myself."

"I thought you were straight," Clark said through gritted teeth. The mere thought of Lex with anyone else sent a sharp surge of jealousy through him.

"For him, I'd switch teams," Trent said. There was a dreamy look on his face, but then, there usually was. "Can I have him?"

"No," Clark growled. His hand tightened on his drink and the glass shattered, only superspeed saving him from Scotch-soaked clothes.

"Shit!" Trent exclaimed. "Are you okay, dude? What happened?"

"Cheap glass," Clark covered, mopping up with a t-shirt. Then he realized that a human would be bleeding after breaking a glass in his hand. "Safety glass, though, luckily."

"Whew. I was kidding about Lex, CK," Trent said, looking sheepish. "He's yours, I have eyes. Go for it, would you? I don't like to think of all that sexy going to waste."

"You think he likes me?" Clark wondered if there was some correlation between his new-found sexual identity and the fact that he sounded like a 12-year-old girl. It was probably just his inner dork again.

"Dude, if you can't see that, you're fucking blind," Trent said. "Or just not paying attention."

Clark resolved to give the matter his fullest attention.

"Ready?" Lex was leaning in the doorway, looking ten kinds of hot.

"I'm ready," Clark said, grabbing their coats. He was _so_ ready.

"Nice to meet you, Trent. I enjoyed talking with you," Lex said, shrugging into his long black coat.

"Likewise," Trent said, already reloading the bong. "You boys have a nice night."

"See you later, Trent," Clark said. "And, thanks."

"It's cool, dude," Trent said, settling back on the bed with his bong and cell phone.


End file.
